


Ruined

by 20Zvorak17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fem!Harry, Harry Potter was Raised by Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20Zvorak17/pseuds/20Zvorak17
Summary: Voldemort wanted to destroy Ivy Potter.Barty Crouch Jr. succeeded.Probably a one shot, but full story if by popular demand.





	1. Chapter 1

She is already traumatized. Like, she just watched a Dark Lord rise with her freaking blood, and a friend die because she tried to be honorable and that’s before the Moody Imposter, Crou… _he_ pulls her away.

“Impressive, Potter.” He says in the Moody voice even after her suspicions set in, even as his face morphed, becoming younger and smoother. “You escaped from My Lord.” speaks a different voice entirely.

Her eyes dart towards the door but he cuts her idea off at the knees, “You’re welcome to try, Potter.” He flicks his wand lazily, “Expelliarmus." It's casual, unconcerned, and all the more disconcerting for it, "Go right ahead.” She is stuck and they both know it.

“Don’t think your master will be too happy if you kill me. I believe you know that the somewhat _dubious_ honor is meant to be his.” She tells him bravely, haughtily, forcibly keeping the fear from her voice.

“Is that what you think my plan is?” The corner of his lips turns up into a smirk that sets her on edge all the worse.

“Fine.” She sets her jaw. “Crucio me. It can’t be worse than _Voldemort_ ’s.” She exaggerates his name, just to infuriate the Death Eater in front of her.

“Don’t say his name!” The man insists before calming. “But I’m not going to Crucio you either.”

“Oh? Then what is your master plan. Another portkey?” Her defiance is an act and the smirk he gives her tells her that he knows it.

“So, you figured it out.” He sounds far too impressed for her liking. “As smart as you are pretty.” Something in his tone disturbs her. He rises and she stands, determined not to cede power to this boy that stands before her; this person she knows from Dumbledore’s memory. He eyes her greedily, in such a way that her skin begins to crawl. She needs to get out. She spares a moment to wish to God she hadn’t been disarmed, but decides to bash his head in instead. She grabs the sneakoscope off his desk—an expelliarmus takes care of that, too. And then her back is pressed against a wall. And there is nowhere to run. And no one, she begins to realize, is coming.

And he isn’t planning to torture her.

And he isn’t intending to kill her. 

 _No,_ she begs to whatever entity happens to be listening, _please, please, no._

She realizes the hard way that _no one_ is listening.

 

McGonagall, Dumbledore, Remus and Sirius barge through the wards fifteen minutes later.

By then, her robes are shredded—an overpowered diffindo that had cut her stomach up even. By then, there is blood on her legs. By then, she is huddled on the floor sobbing.

By then, it is far too late.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

Everyone freezes where they stand. Thanks to the first war, they have seen most of the evils of the world—murder, torture, killing children, but none of them walked in prepared for the scene before them. When it involves Death Eater’s sure—but not when it involves their Ivy.

“He took a portkey.” She informs them in a choked voice. “And he was drinking polyjuice. I…I recognized him from your pensieve. Crou…the boy with the Lestranges.” She cannot say his name. Hopes she will not need to.

She half expects Dumbledore to correct her—fear of the name and all. Maybe it is illogical. She can say the name of someone immortal who tried to murder an infant, did kill her parents but somehow it is this, this act that she would've though to be so much less painful than the torture curse, than watching Cedric _die_ (And god she has never been so wrong)…it is this that leaves her unable to speak a name. Perhaps he believes she has a right to her fear, or at the very least her _pain,_ because all he responds with is, “You’re sure it was him?”

She nods, then, and soldiers on. “And…it was Voldemort’s plan...”

“Tomorrow, Ivy.” Dumbledore tells her gently, interrupting as she trails off. “We can do this tomorrow.”

She agrees quickly, tries to speak bravely, fails miserably. The words come out broken, “I need a shower anyway.”

No one is daft enough to think that she means the blood that’s on her.

No one is cruel enough to tell her the blood is all she will be able to wash off.

She finds out anyway.

And cries.

“Ivy love?” She recognizes her Dad’s voice immediately, even through the heavy Oak door. “Do you need Molly?”

“No.” She manages to choke out through tears. “No, I’m just…”

“Baby,” Sirius answers sadly, a name he hasn’t called her since she was very small, “it’s okay to not be okay.”

“I can’t get the feeling of his hands off of me.” She admits brokenly and his heart clenches. His fists, too, he realizes almost distantly because God does he want to hit something.

“Would you like to go home?” He asks softly because _what the fuck else is there to say?_

“With you and Papa?” Her voice lilts in the closest thing to hope he’s heard all night. Nevertheless, he nearly cries, indeed leans his head against the door as if he can force the tears to stay inside his eyes—she’s called Remus Pops, and not Papa, since she was seven years old. It is a testament to her present state.

“Yeah.” He replies softly.

“I’d like to go home,” she decides. “I just need another hour or so...”

He doesn’t tell her she’s been in the shower for two hours already, that there is a self-renewing charm to keep the water hot at all times, that she’s probably scrubbed her skin raw already, that she needs to get out of the shower. If he has his way she’s never doing a damn thing she doesn’t want to do ever. Again.

She’ll happily stay there forever, is what he cannot understand. She can’t move. She can’t think.

She’s _ruined._

                                                                 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have changed my mind about the one-shot thing.

 

"I'm sorry, dear," Madam Pomfrey begins, "but you only have 24 hours to decide if you want an emergency contraception potion. This is the beginning of her  _after_. Because her life has that now, a  _before_ and an  _after_. The Daily Prophet interviews her and: "I was wearing my school robes. In which universe is that provocative? Gryffindor wasn't having a party--I hadn't been drinking. No, I didn't give the wrong idea to a man I had never met." It is these things that they ask her. These are the particulars of her after.

He will never face justice. He is around the country doing Voldemort's bidding before she feels safe leaving the manor. She goes nowhere by herself. Panic attacks are common and nightmares are routine. She can still feel the terror, the realization, the shame that her friends and her dads assure her she need not feel.

This is her new normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually done this time. Honest as Abe Lincoln.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wasn't really sure how a to write a scene like that; I've talked to rape survivors so I understand the aftermath as best as someone whose never experienced it can, but I didn't want to write something like that wrong.


End file.
